The Meaning of Opera
by can-you-imagine
Summary: Maka arrives home to see Soul belting out Opera at the top of his lungs. Maka is confused, prompting a story about Soul's past, and what convinced him to start loving opera. Complete.


A/N: Well, here you go. Before you read I must warn you that I've only watched around 7-9 different episodes of Soul Eater, and read a bunch of FF, so forgive me my mistakes. I also will warn you that the following isn't all that great. But the muses wouldn't shut up after I watched Moonstruck a few days ago, and I couldn't get the image of Soul cooking, belting out 'O Soave Fanciulla', out of my head. –CYI

A/N 2: Okay, I didn't think I had to say this, but please, no flames. I understand if you didn't like my story, that's fine, frankly, I'm not too pleased with it. If you want to tell me you didn't like it, go ahead, tell me, something like: "I didn't like this. At all. Your plot was substandard. Mwahahaha. Bye." That's fine. If all you liked was one sentence go ahead and tell me. Reviews are meant to provide constructive criticism and encouragement. Flames do nothing but make us writers very, very sad and discouraged. If you have a serious problem my fic or have questions, then sign the review, so that I can respond to it in private. I'll end my rant now. Thank you for your cooperation. -CYI

Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater, Carmen, or Moonstruck, although I wouldn't mind owning a 1987, Italian, sweaty Nicholas Cage. I don't own the ARTS channel either. Yes, it actually exists.

0o0o0o0

Maka trudged home after a long evening studying for finals at the library. It took all day, but Maka felt more prepared. And exhausted. _'Oh crap, it's my turn to make dinner tonight. I hope Soul doesn't mind Chinese take out.'_

Maka neared the door to her and Soul's apartment when she heard the noise. It was a puzzling noise, a noise Maka was unfamiliar with. _'And what is that mouthwatering smell?'_

Maka pushed open the door and was met with an odd sight. Soul, wearing an apron. Soul, poised in front of a sizzling frying pan, pushing around the contents with a spatula. Soul, head thrown back, singing along at the top of his lungs to the famous opera La Boheme, which was playing on the TV.

"Soul, what..." Maka closed the door and leaned against its frame, wondering whether Soul had succumbed to the madness inside him and if she minded.

"Oh, hey Maka. How did studying go?" He sounded like Soul. And he looked like Soul, except for the apron.

"Fine. Soul, you didn't have to cook."

"Eh, it's fine. I figured you deserved the break."

Maka put her bag down by the table and saw another impossible sight.

"You studied?"

Soul chuckled, grinning at Maka before returning his gaze to the pan. "Opera does crazy things to me."

Maka collapsed in a chair, leaning on her hand and idly perusing Soul's notes. They were pretty good. "I never knew you liked opera."

Soul put a lid on the stir-fry and lowered the heat and checked the rice before leaning back against the counter. "I didn't use to. I hated opera as a kid. I didn't understand it, most kids can't." Maka settled in for a story.

Soul continued. "I have this cousin Ria. Ria dances and plays the harp. The harp of all things."

"To each their own." Soul nodded at Maka in agreement.

"Growing up, we were always in each others houses. Our families were both music centered and always traveled together. The families always spent two weeks at Christmas and two weeks in the summer at my grandparent's house in Monaco. One year for Ria's birthday my present to her was to sit through one of her sappy romantic movies with her. The one she picked was called Moonstruck." Soul looked up at Maka. "Now what I'm about to say, you cannot repeat, okay?" Maka nodded.

"I loved it. It was different than most of that girly crap on TV. It wasn't a romantic comedy for one. At the beginning, this Italian woman gets engaged to her dweeb boyfriend who thinks a good suit comes with two pairs of pants." Soul looked at Maka and clarified, "They don't, by the way. That night, after they get engaged, he leaves for Sicily to see his dying mother and he asks her to go see his estranged brother and invite him to the wedding. She goes, there are loud words, she cooks him a steak and they end up sleeping together." Queue Maka's wide eyes. "Ah, but the shit doesn't hit the fan just yet. The next morning, he tells her he loves her. She freaks, and he agrees to leave her alone if she comes with him to the only other thing he loves. The opera. Specifically, a showing of La Boheme." Maka begins to smile softly. _'Ahhh, that's it.'_ "Some other stuff happens, happy ending, blah blah, but throughout the movie, during all of 'their' scenes this song from La Boheme, 'O Soave Fanciulla', plays."

Soul looked at Maka. "Opera can be beautiful, it can be heartbreaking, but the point is, it effects people. It can change them. 'O Soave Fanciulla' is one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard."

Soul stared into Maka with emotion and depth in his eyes. Yet it did not burn into her, or challenge, it did not measure or implore her. It put them on an equal level of understanding, the level where two people are so completely in sync with each other that no words are needed, yet words are said, just because.

Maka smiled back at her partner. "I would like to understand this, I think."

And Soul smiled, an actual smile, not a smirk. "Well, dinner's done. Lets get some food and watch Don Jose kill Carmen, and then despair beside her dead body."

"Why is he sad if her killed her?"

"Cause he loved her."

"Then why did he kill her?"

"She loved some bullfighter named Escamillo."

They sat on the couch with their plates.

"What channel is this, the 24/7 opera channel?"

"The ARTS channel, thank you very much."

0o0o0o0

Well, what do you think? Telling me would make me very happy.

BTW, if you haven't seen the movie Moonstruck, watch it! (Or I'll take your soul!)

-CYI


End file.
